The Hidden Message in the Nonexplanation
by BookwormKiwi
Summary: So what if he likes clowns? Maybe he'll like clowns forever. Episode tag to 5.01


He is eating pie, and making a big show of not offering her any, because he remembers she doesn't like her fruit cooked. He remembers, see? And he knows _he_ likes pie.

"You know, I don't like it when you do that." She has her hands cupped around her mug as if she's trying to warm them. He can't imagine why. She always has warm hands. He remembers that, too. He'd assumed she'd have cold hands, working with death all the time. But it had never rubbed off on her.

"Do what, Bones?" He smiles at her charmingly, just because he can. Or maybe for an excuse to take a break from his snack, because it doesn't taste as good as he thought it would.

"Don't explain things to me." Her eyebrows furrow. There's a real difference between Bones at the lab and Bones in the world. When she knows things, she reeks of confidence – of arrogance, even, that annoyed him for most of their first year together. She used to be like that all the time.

But now she wants to understand, all those things she didn't used to think mattered.

"What didn't I explain to you?"

"What will all work out?" she repeated insistently, and she stares at him so intensely, he's momentarily speechless. But then he remembers that he likes this feeling of knowing something she doesn't.

"_You _don't always explain things to _me_," he says, pointing his fork at her accusatorily, and she looks taken aback.

"Of course I do," she says, losing her narrowed eyes, "otherwise you wouldn't understand what we're talking about."

"Hey…" He deepens his voice, as if it makes him sound convincing. He remembers it's never worked before, but feels it can't hurt to try anyway. "I know _some_ sciencey stuff, I went to college."

She laughs, in that patronizing way he knows she doesn't mean, and it doesn't matter so much anyway, because he likes to make her laugh.

"What?"

"Some _sciencey _stuff isn't exactly what we talk about." She continues giggling about something he doesn't find funny. She seems to have forgotten about what she wanted to know. Booth digs back into his pie and pretends to enjoy it. Her smile lingers a little longer, and then she sobers up quickly.

"What did you mean?"

Booth rolls his eyes. "Just drop it, would you? It's not important."

"No, not that." She frowns curiously, and he thinks maybe he can detect some hurt in her eyes. "When you said you had to settle for second best. Were you talking about me?"

He swallows nervously. He wanted to pretend, tonight, that nothing had changed. She looks away, out the window, starts fidgeting uncomfortably.

"Bones…"

"It's ok, Booth, we've…worked together for a long time." She looks back at him and smiles tightly, but he can see she is trying to seem confident, just like she used to, when she didn't understand, and would pretend anyway. "If you want to change things…I understand."

"Bones, I…" He shrugs helplessly. "I don't know what I want."

She turns her rational face on. "I know you live by your emotions, so if you want to, you should. But I don't think it's very logical – we work together really, and it'd be hard to start with someone new. Besides, I _am_ the best in my field."

"Wait…_what_ are you talking about?" Booth has lost interest in his pie.

"You…wanting a new partner, what are _you_ talking about?"

"I never said I wanted a new partner!"

"Yes, you did, you said you had to settle for second best, although I don't know _who_ exactly the best is." He can see her relief, shown by her return to obvious confusion.

"I wasn't saying…I didn't mean…_that_." Booth is horrified she thought that's what he meant, even if only for a few moments. It's completely the opposite of what he really wants.

"Oh." She seems to accept this for a moment, screwing up her face, and he can _see _her un-turning all the cogs that landed her with that conclusion. "But you were talking about me. Why did you say I was second best?"

The hurt is gone, she laughs a little incredulously. She is puzzled, because she can't think of a reasonable answer to her question.

"I di—" he sighs. "Don't worry about it."

Her annoyed glare is back. "You're doing it again. Not explaining. Why am I second best?"

"You're not. Second best. I didn't _mean_ that when I said that." He can't see it getting any easier from here.

"What _did_ you mean?"

So he takes the route of silence. A smile, that superiority.

"What did you _mean_?"

He remembers it will annoy her, but he remembers that he likes that. He remembers it will probably be forgotten by tomorrow. See, he remembers a lot of things. Even if his brain changed after his coma, his heart sure remembers that he loves her.


End file.
